


no one ever really dies

by gaspille



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Ableist Language, Humiliation, Jack Has A New Body And Is Only Going To Do Terrible Things With It, M/M, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-04 10:05:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18602320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaspille/pseuds/gaspille
Summary: Rhys helps Jack adjust to his new body





	no one ever really dies

**Author's Note:**

> Set after an alternate ending to Episode 4 where Rhys, very stupidly, installs Jack into a cybernetic body that Nakayama, very kindly, left for him, with obviously awful results. Enjoy!
> 
> [Title.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U0iUsQB3uUI)

“Hey, champ.” Jack wraps his hands behind his head and looks up from his desk. “Wanna help me with something?”

Rhys says nothing. What was there to say, really? He hadn’t planned for this; to stumble upon Nakayama’s Jack-droid stuffed in a random locker, its body wrapped in layers of pink plastic, like a murder victim (which Jack, of course, insisted he was). It was eerily lifelike, save for a small neuroport carved into its temple, which Rhys had, in all his infinite ambition, plugged Jack’s AI into.

Jack had promised him the universe, in exchange for his resurrection. Instead, he gave Rhys exactly ten seconds to contemplate his own stupidity before flipping him onto his back and ripping his cybernetic arm clean from its socket with his bare hands.

“For your own good,” he’d said as he scooped out Rhys’ ECHO eye, his brand new fingers smelling of burnt plastic. “Wouldn’t want you getting into too much trouble, would we?”

Rhys would’ve welcomed being strangled to death at that point, but Jack had other ideas. “Get on your knees and shut the hell up,” he’d told him as he threw him into his office. “You have exactly until I find that vault to decide how you wanna die.”

Given the way that Jack’s looking at him now, hours later, Rhys has no doubt that whatever he chooses will be made as excruciating as possible. He’d witnessed Jack at his weakest; literally trapped inside his skull, and that is enough to warrant a prolonged, torturous death.

Still, Rhys reminds himself, Jack’s theatrics give him precious time to think - to formulate an escape plan, or find a weak point. Jack had died once already - at the hands of people far more badass than him, but still - that means it could happen again. 

“Hey, you there?” Jack says, snapping him back into focus. “I pulled out your cybernetics, not your brain, dumbass.”

Rhys shifts from knee to knee, wobbling as he does. He braces his remaining arm on his knee, and forces himself to look at Jack’s face. “If I do, are you going to give me a new arm and eye?”

Jack snorts and shakes his head. “Don’t sell yourself short, kiddo. You don’t need the full-set for this.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“Because it’s a stupid question. A good question would be, 'why yes, Jack, sir, light of my life, fire of my loins, how can I ever thank you for not killing me today'?”

Rhys takes a deep breath, counting backwards from ten to steady himself, to not say anything Jack will make him regret. “Why do you want?”

“Glad you asked, princess.” Jack’s caustic expression softens, and he glances back down at his desk. “Well, I got craploads of work to do to get Hyperion back on track. Seriously, everyone on this station needs to moonshot to Elpis for taking a giant dump on my legacy. That’s a biggie.”

“And you want me to do that?”

“What? No. Don’t be ridiculous. What’re you gonna do, faint on them? Nah, this’s more of a personal problem.” Jack lifts his head and smiles as he leans back in his chair. “See, this new body you got me is pretty fresh. Kinda feels like I’m a teenager again, y’know? Can’t concentrate like this.” 

Rhys tries to imagine Jack as a teenager, and comes up blank. “Yeah, I have literally no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t.” Jack gets up and walks over to him, his eyes filled with the same glow as when he ripped out Rhys’ arm. “Listen, you dweeb, I gotta break this new body in one way or another, so I thought I’d do you a favour and let you suck my dick.”

Rhys takes a second to wonder whether the amputation has sent him into a prolonged state of shock; Jack’s words reduced to utter gibberish in his brain. “Huh?”

“Oh, come on. Don’t play hard to get, kiddo. It isn’t cute.”

The words finally slot together, and Rhys’ cheeks grow hot. “Oh, n-no thanks, I… I don’t want… that.”

The smile on Jack’s face grows malignant. “Pretty useless, kiddo; trying to lie to a guy who literally lived inside your brain. It’s fine, I mean, it’d actually be weirder if you didn’t wanna suck me off. God knows most of the dorks around here would poke their own eyes out to be in your shoes right now.”

“So ask them then.”

“What, you don’t like me anymore?”

Rhys sweeps a hand over his remaining body parts. “What do you want me to say? I’m sorry, but it’s kind of a mood-killer when a guy steals your parts for fun.”

“Oh, calm down. Why are cyborgs always so goddamn sensitive?” Jack rolls his eyes, and before Rhys can reply he has him by the hair. His nails skitter across the floor as Jack yanks him backwards, slamming him hard against the window; empty space grasping at his back behind the glass.

“Jack—“ Rhys gapes up at him, and wishes he hadn’t. Jack’s skin is tinged purple in the light, mouth twisted into a sneer; a demon, snatched from hell.

“I know your worthless life is pretty much over, so you know what?” Jack barely flinches as Rhys claws at the hand in his hair, trying to pulling himself up. “I won’t snap your other arm off for disrespecting your boss.”

“Wait—”

“Y’know, if it wasn’t for me, a bunch of bandits would be kicking around your head while their friends gangbanged your skinny body. So how ‘bout showing some gratitude, hmm?”

With that mental image, all remaining courage melts to a puddle inside of Rhys, a chill flooding through his guts. “I am gra—”

“But if my cock isn’t good enough for you, then fine. We’ll find one that is.” Jack lets go of his hair. “I know some sickos down in engineering that’d work overtime just to pass you around. Hell, some people would even pay good money for an amputated slut like you - after you lose the rest of your limbs, of course.”

Rhys swallows. “Thought you didn’t like men.”

Jack hums. “Nah, not really, but you’re barely even a man, are you?” He spreads a hand over Rhys’ neck, tracing the lines of his tattoo with his thumb. His other hand moves to his pants, tugging his zipper open without hurry, savoring his new body. “Barely even human.”

His cock is about what Rhys had imagined; flawless and surgically large. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, twisting until his cheek is pressed against the window. “H-hey, Jack, don’t do this. Please. I helped you, remember? I did what you asked. I betrayed my friends for you.”

“And this is your reward.” When Rhys doesn’t move, Jack’s tone whittles down to a hiss, his thumbnail digging into Rhys’ collarbone. “You asked for this, remember? All that time I was backseat driving, you were perfectly happy to flaunt yourself for me, but now the real thing isn’t good enough for you? So, what, you just like leading guys on?”

“No, I didn’t lea—“

“Or maybe you’re a no-means-yes kinda guy? You like getting strangled and slapped around with a dick inside you?” Rhys jumps as Jack rubs himself against his lips. “Hey, we can do that.”

Jack’s cock leaves behind a wet trail as he drags it up Rhys’ cheek. “Or maybe you like it bandit-style now?” He pushes against the hollow shell of his eyelid, and Rhys gasps. “If that’s what you’re into, sure, but I gotta warn ya - gonna be a real pain to get my come out with only one hand afterwards.”

Rhys’ good eye opens automatically and he beholds Jack from below; his face swollen red with arousal, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. His cock twitches against his eyelid, and Rhys imagines Vaughn and Yvette breaking down the doors as he’s imagined so many times already. Only this time, the fantasy ends with them finding him dead on the floor; blood and come and brain matter leaking out from his empty eye socket. 

Rhys’ jaw drops open, and he sticks out his tongue as far as it will go; all shame obliterated by the need to get Jack as far away from his eyes are possible.

“Good girl.” Jack curls his fingers in Rhys’ hair, pinning his head against the window. He gives his eyelid one final nudge before pushing his cock into his mouth and it’s like Rhys’ been held underwater; now struggling for air, his mouth filling with the taste of saltwater.

Two inches in, and Jack stills, giving Rhys time to adjust - or, more likely, waiting for him to do the work himself. His eyes water, and he racks his brain for memories of his first blowjob, or what his ex-girlfriend had done, exactly, but it’s impossible to concentrate with Jack above him; eyes narrowed on the empty spaces where his cybernetics should be.

For lack of any better ideas, Rhys sucks around the head, wincing as he runs his tongue along the underside. Jack groans, bucking in his mouth, causing Rhys to gag; his teeth scraping over the cock in his mouth.

Hissing, Jack pulls Rhys forward, thrusting against the inside of his cheek, and slams his head back into the window, his cock coming free with a wet _pop._ “Jesus, kid, please tell me you’ve done this before?”

“No,” Rhys drools, cradling his throbbing head with his hand. It would be a mercy to get knocked unconscious right now, but if he does, there’s no telling what’ll be missing when he wakes up.

“God, you even suck at sucking. How’s that possible?” Jack hooks a thumb in-between Rhys’ teeth and pries them apart, holding his jaw painfully open as he pushes back in. “You wanna wrap your lips around your teeth, kid, ‘cos if I feel them again I’m gonna knock ‘em out of your skull.”

Rhys follows the instructions as best he can; his hand wrapped around Jack’s thigh, stomach filling with nausea as Jack rocks in and out of his mouth, using him like a toy. The tendons strain in his jaw and Rhys gags without relief; drool seeping down his chin and into his vest. 

God, what he wouldn’t give for a sudden, all-consuming explosion right now; for this entire shitty space station to go plummeting into Pandora; for a shipload of bandits to crash through the window and fucking slaughter him where he kneels.

“I know I’m not exactly small, babe, but c’mon. It’s like you’re not even trying.” Jack reaches out to knead at the smooth curve of Rhys’ shoulder, and Rhys whimpers at the reminder. Jack must like that because he sets a faster pace, his movements sloppy, cock bumping against Rhys’ soft palette. “It’s really kinda hot, the no-arm thing. Don’t ask me why.”

He squeezes the stump, grounding his cock into Rhys’ mouth, and Rhys’ eyes burn with tears “Maybe because it makes you look even more helpless? Like I could do anything I wanted to to you - could fish your arm out of the dumpster and jam it up your ass, and you’d just have to take it. I mean, you’d have to take it no matter what because I’m a god and you’re you, but whatever. It’s a good look on you, yeah?”

Rhys’ stomach upturns; a cold sweat pricking across his raw scalp. He shoves at Jack’s thigh, and is surprised when he’s let up for air.

“Aww, poor baby, did that hurt?” Jack gives him a minute to retch and clutch his swollen throat, touching his own cock idly. “Well, gotta suck it up. This’s as good as it’s even gonna get for you.” 

He leans forward to rub himself through Rhys’ hair, now tangled with knots. “I mean, that bandit chick… Sandra? Sarah? You could bite my dick off and beat me to death with it right now and she still wouldn’t let you in her pants. That’s really saying something, Rhysie, ‘cos Pandorans? They’re the biggest sluts in the goddamn universe. Even sluttier than you, if you can believe it.”

“Shut up,” Rhys tries to say, more for Sasha’s honor than his at this point, but Jack shoves back into his mouth before he can get the words out.

“Yeah, sorry, didn’t catch that. Don’t worry, I’m sure it was dumb.” Jack is rougher now; alternating between deep and shallow thrusts. He grips Rhys’ jaw, his middle finger circling the edge of his port. “Was thinking I could put something in here, turn you into the best goddamn cocksucker in the world. Could keep you alive just for this, baby girl, never get stressed out again. Hey, can you do me a favor and pretend you wouldn’t love that?”

Rhys fights back an urge to vomit; the mental image only slightly less horrifying than the thought of what Jack will do to him if he gets puke in his office. He tries to loosen his muscles as Jack’s thrusts become more and more erratic, but all it does is make him drool harder, a puddle forming between his knees.

“Oh, you like that?” Jack grunts and ruts in his throat, his pupils blown to hell. Taking two fistfuls of Rhys’ hair, he pulls himself forward until Rhys’ nose is buried in his pubic hair. “Think you deserve it?”

He comes in Rhys’ mouth with one final, violent thrust, and Rhys’ relief overwhelms the humiliation, at least until he tastes Jack’s come; acrid and staining into his tastebuds and he struggles not to puke his guts out in sheer horror.

“Thanks, kiddo.” Jack waits until he’s completely soft before pulling out, making Rhys flinch as his cock drags over his bruised lips. “You’re a champ.”

The muscles in his jaw relax blissfully and Rhys doubles over without thinking; retching until his mouth is dry, spitting saliva and semen onto the floor. 

“Holy shit.” Jack laughs, his eyes darkening as he lifts his foot in the air. Rhys screams as it connects with his groin; a throbbing wave of pain sweeping through his abdomen, his muscles clenching into knots. Bile bubbles in his throat and he rolls into a ball as Jack kicks him over and over, the tender flesh of his shoulder rubbing raw against the floor. 

“You really are a dumb, disgusting bitch, huh,” says Jack, and in the moment, Rhys finds himself agreeing with him.

Time bleeds into one long, agonizing instant. By the time Rhys’ thoughts become coherent again, Jack is back at his desk, like it’s just another day at work.

“Get over here.” Scowling, Jack snaps his fingers towards a spot by his feet, and Rhys’ stomach tightens. He unfurls his limbs and starts to climb to his feet, but Jack shakes his head.

“Yeah, no, you don’t get to walk anymore.” Jack raises his head, mouth slanted. “You wanna act like a dog, then you're gonna get treated like one. Crawl, bitch.”

It takes an embarrassingly long time to limp-crawl to Jack’s desk, his hands balanced between his shoulders, knees aching against the marble. Eyes on the floor, Rhys arranges himself cross-legged beside him, his chin resting against his chest. 

“Took you long enough. Almost like you don’t wanna hear the good news.” Jack wipes his damp fingers through Rhys’ hair as he consults his screen. “I’ve decided I’m not gonna kill you the second I get that vault open.”

“Thanks,” Rhys whispers in monotone; too sore and humiliated to pretend he’s anything more than a prisoner now. He winces as Jack pats him on the head, the gesture obscenely platonic, given the circumstances

“You’re real welcome,” says Jack, “because to celebrate, I’m gonna fuck you in the ass. Hey, why not? You’ve earned it, babe.” Rhys stiffens; Jack’s foot stroking his lower back. “Then yeah, I’ll probably torture you to death, but until that happens maybe try not to look so goddamn pathetic? We’re gonna have fun.”


End file.
